Makhosonke Dhlamini Biography

It's beyond metaphor, nor smile in oxymoron,
And lies in the hands of irony.
Only fragments in ink can define the monotony
Of politics punctuated by propaganda.
...

Ink  and Breath


Tragic ink, it paints clouds without rain,
...

He disappeared when autumn sang the last hymn.

Trees cogitate in silent and poetry shall not express grief; we shared shade while dismantle our problems
And
...

I chase illusion; despair descends
When the sun melts at noon, time reveals reality's truth.
Oh dear, whisper to my conscience:
A month has passed; the benches remain.
...

Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes pass,
Frozen breath in mirrored glass.
Mist, like dew, upon the rose does lie,
Embracing petals, blue as morning's sky.
...